


Even If I Tried

by maybesheglows



Category: Queer as Folk (US) RPF
Genre: Light Angst, M/M, POV Second Person, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27164143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybesheglows/pseuds/maybesheglows
Summary: Gale knew Randy was going to be a problem for him by the time they'd filmed the tenth episode.
Relationships: Gale Harold/Randy Harrison
Kudos: 8





	Even If I Tried

You'd known he was going to be a problem for you by the time you'd filmed the tenth episode.  
  
Brian and Justin were supposed to be having sex in a hotel room. Rough sex. Brian was supposed to be punishing Justin for stealing his credit card and going to New York. The moment his tongue – that same tongue you'd dreamt about the night previous, weaving its way down your body, strong, wet, skillful – ran up the length of your abdominals to your neck, you'd known he was getting to you. And not in a _this kid is fucking cute_ way, either. No, he was getting to you in a way that said, _you'd better be fucking careful because this kid is more than cute, more than hot, more than sexy._ He was _Randy_ and he made you laugh and you liked talking to him. And you obviously didn't listen to your own advice because you weren't fucking careful at all. He was just supposed to be some theater geek, your not-even-old-enough-to-drink costar. This wasn't supposed to be happening.  
  
This shouldn't be happening. None of it. This show wasn't supposed to go on for more than three episodes. You weren't even a real actor. This was merely a means of making money until you became a professional photographer or mechanic or whateverthefuck you'd planned to be. You weren't supposed to be taken this seriously. You were set to film the final episode of season one, and you were fucking grateful because that meant a break from filming for two and a half months. No cameras. No cock socks. No Randy. And that's exactly what you needed. A break from it all. Time to clear your head and get him out of it. And then you filmed it, and something happened. Something you didn't expect, something you hadn't planned, ever, let alone with him.  
  
You fucking knew. You knocked on the door of his trailer and he saw you and you saw him, and, in that instant, you knew. By some goddamn gravitational pull he had over you, you went straight to his trailer after filming it.  
  
Hal sat down next to you and ran his fingers through your hair in that comforting way that he's adopted for Michael, all the while looking perfectly destroyed, but you couldn't focus on him in that moment. You couldn't think about anything except yourself. And him. And what he meant to you. And that is exactly where you fucked up. He wasn't supposed to mean anything to you, but the more you thought about it, the more you realized that he did. He meant more to you than you'd ever imagined and you channeled that and harnessed it for the scene because it was good shit for a scene like that and if you were going to be an actor, you were going to be a damn good one. And the scene came out fucking perfect, the look on your face at once haunting and heartbreaking. It fucking destroyed you to do it but you did and if you were to blame anything for what happened after, well...you'd blame that scene. For causing you to think like that, think about how you'd feel if he were to...and you'd never even told him.  
  
And then the director said cut and you sat there and watched while everyone stood around you, applauding for the last take of the season. You stood finally, realizing that your behavior would seem strange. Hal gave you a hug and you put on a smile for him and said goodbye, trying to hide the raging emotions going on inside you. The hugs and smiles were all automated as you made your way off the set toward your trailer. You were going to go the fuck home and not think about this until...ever. But then you saw the light on in his trailer.  
  
He took a moment to come to the door and as you waited you tried to think of what you were going to say to him. Your reason for knocking on his door was still unclear in your mind and that wasn't okay. It wasn't fucking okay because you shouldn't be feeling like this, like you had no idea why the fuck one person could affect you so much. And then he answered the door, looking all blond and smiley and perfect, and you pulled him to you in an instant, your arms holding tight around him.  
  
But you didn't kiss him. Not yet. You just held him, and he held you back, his face pressed to your chest. After a few moments he pulled away, took your hand and led you inside his trailer as he shut the door.  
  
You sat on one side of the makeshift booth and he on the other. He looked at you with concern and asked you what was wrong and were you okay. You had no idea what the fuck to do. To feel. To say.  
  
And you think he knew that because he reached across the table for your hand and asked you if whatever was going on with you had anything to do with the scene you'd just filmed. He linked his fingers with yours then and something inside you snapped. How he could just know, without you saying a word, that something was wrong and it had to do with you and him and _you and him_ and...he just knew. That's what did it.  
  
You knew that this was it. You were going to throw yourself off of that proverbial ledge of love and you were either going to land flat on your face or in the comfort of his arms. All you had was hope that it was the latter.  
  
You told him, and his smile lit up the room and your heart and you couldn't help it, you smiled back. He'd caught you, and this immense weight you'd been feeling lately had just been lifted off of you. He stood then, taking your hand with him, and walked with you to your trailer. He was next to you the whole way, his hand holding yours and your shoulders touching, and you couldn't contain this feeling of overwhelming happiness and excitement. He waited for you in your trailer as you changed clothes and gathered your things.  
  
Then it was time to go and you weren't really sure what was going to happen. But he answered that when he lifted onto his tiptoes to say right into your ear _I want to go home with you, Gale._ So he rode with you on the short ride to your apartment and the whole way he kept fiddling with the radio while your mind was trying to play out what was going to occur between the two of you that night.  
  
Your mind didn't do it justice, though. Looking at him now, next to you in your bed, all you can think is that your mind couldn't have possibly thought it would be like this. He was nothing like you'd thought he'd be. You pushed into him and his legs came up around your waist, his eyes locking with yours. He'd watched you the entire time, watched the look on your face, the effect of what he was doing to you. It made you so fucking hot.  
  
He moaned deeply every time you hit his prostate and you can't ever remember wanting to prolong your climax as much as you did right then. His arms came up around you and his ass clenched around your cock as he came, and you were trapped. So fucking trapped by him, and you couldn't fucking move, couldn't delay your release any longer with him clenching around you like that. And it couldn't have been any more perfect. He'd fit underneath you so well and his legs were just long enough to lock around your waist as you thrust into him and you love him so fucking much.  
  
He stirs slightly and he opens his eyes to find you looking down at him. He smiles, brings his head up to kiss you and you cup his face in your hand. He settles back into his pillow and you move closer to him and lay down, spooning him. It's all just so fucking perfect.  
_  
You roll the condom on and position your cock at his hole. You look up at him and lean forward to kiss him as his hands cup your face. You pull back from the kiss to find him looking up at you with such intensity, such poignancy that you almost ask him what's wrong. But before you can, he speaks.  
  
"Before we do this, I just want you to know that this is real for me, too, Gale." _

_His hands stroke your face, reassuring, comforting._

_"_ _I'm not taking this lightly. I couldn't even if I tried. I love you." You kiss him, stroke his tongue with your own. Your hand moves to your cock as you look between you to guide it in. His legs come up around your waist as you push into him, bringing you chest to chest. Your faces are inches apart as you begin to move and you've never fucked anyone this way before. It's never meant this much, never been this good, this perfect._  
  
So fucking perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted on [livejournal](https://fever-play.livejournal.com/4575.html)
> 
> yell at me on [tumblr](https://maybesheglows.tumblr.com/)


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